


An Ear Doctor Somewhere Is Crying and She Doesn't Know Why

by Deuterosis



Series: Doujin-Resembling Stories [1]
Category: World Trigger (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Criminal Not Sorry, Dubious Consent, Dubious Consentacles, Ear Penetration, Forced Orgasm, Forced to Watch, Humiliation, I Am Aware That These Tags Are at Best a Doozy, Kikuchiharabuse, M/M, Mind Break, Misgendering, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Slime, Slurs, Tentacle Rape, War Crimes, pretending to be fine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:42:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deuterosis/pseuds/Deuterosis
Summary: Enedora takes petty revenge on Kikuchihara during the Large-Scale Invasion.
Relationships: Enedra (World Trigger)/Kikuchihara Shirou
Series: Doujin-Resembling Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2062986
Kudos: 7
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020





	An Ear Doctor Somewhere Is Crying and She Doesn't Know Why

**Author's Note:**

> "Mind Break" and "Forced to Watch" neither are tags nor have tags resembling them? Nor anything like "Ear Sex", the most important tag that I of course forgot? I'm... very surprised....
> 
> For the BTB square "Criminal Not Sorry," this should count. Enedora isn't sorry for a damn thing, and war crimes are crimes.
> 
> I said "dubcon" because although this is obviously non-consensual, Kikuchi succumbs a bit (a la a common happening in the namesake of the Series title). As distinct from non-con fic where that doesn't happen.

Kikuchihara was so used to hearing things whether he wanted to or not that without benefit of sound, it was very easy to catch him off-guard. The distraction of Kazama's defeat and the Neighbor's taunting wedged an opening in his awareness of the battlefield. He _had_ heard some of the liquid Trigger nestle under the rubble, but it didn't register as a hazard, as something he wouldn't be able to dodge in time if necessary.

Then the two retreating soldiers thought the surprise of vanishing before the opponent's eyes would let them flee cleanly. But instead of being astonished by the Chameleon's effect, this Neighbor didn't lose his focus -- on Kikuchihara. Just before the Border agent vanished from sight, the hidden glob's consistency changed in an instant and a flexible, fast whip attacked his leg, curling out of a gap. No giveaway noise gave him any chance to shift course before his ankle was caught.

The catch pleased Enedora, not least because it proved something to his colleagues. Hyrein, Mira, and the rest could say anything they wished behind his back; if he could plan ahead, nothing was wrong with him. He'd been ready with his trap and chosen wisely.

Nearby, despite Kazama's orders, Utagawa's fleeing footsteps had paused after just two taps. The admonishments came coolly over comm.

"Keep retreating, Utagawa. The facts haven't changed. Kikuchihara, what are you waiting for?"

"I don't think I'm done for yet," he answered silently. "This guy probably can't make me into a cube."

"And what do you expect to accomplish _now_?"

Enedora had begun the stroll toward his new prisoner, stepping down the mound of cement.

"I don't know, but if he hasn't killed me yet, he's making a mistake. I'll have time to Bail Out if I have to."

There was a good reason, this time, for him to be daring and foolish. Yes, Kikuchihara was in a supreme disadvantage and ought to escape for his own safety -- but with this new development escape would come at the cost of one soldier fewer in play. With horned Aftokrator soldiers, multiple Black Trigger users running around, the situation was too ugly for any luxuries... and to surrender in full now would be too ignominious for his ego to contemplate.

Kazama didn't answer, but Kikuchi couldn't assume his captain's thoughts. Instead of him, the Neighbor gave a command.

"I know you're there, Miden Monkey; un-cloak yourself."

Since it would needlessly waste Trion to stay invisible, Kikuchihara gave the impression of obedience. Just maybe, whatever the Neighbor wanted may be of value; a chance at an opening (unlikely) or at gaining info.

Or so he could hope. But Enedora's intentions now were driven by spite. What particularly annoyed him was how all these capering monkey spawn thought they could get over on him with their "mysterious" tricks. Apparently they thought he wouldn't notice little giveaways like tying back one's hair.

Since this brunet happened to be the lynchpin of their dodges, he clearly had quite the high opinion of himself. This type of needlessly-calm face turned up now and then among teenage trainees back in Aftokrator: the ones that already thought themselves worth a damn just because they had some edge or another over their fellows in the lot. Of top of that, he -- or, well, it, Enedora couldn't say -- managed to look put-upon and superior all at once. Exactly the kind of little self-important bitch that annoyed Enedora to yet further pieces.

He looked his prisoner over, and the prisoner stared back. No doubt watching for something it could call an opening, as if one caught shrimp had a chance at taking him down or making some difference against Borboros' combat form.

The background noise to this staredown was the sound of faraway explosions. Apparently sick of the relative silence, the capture asked "What's the hold-up? Don't you want to spike me, too?"

Enedora ignored the question, himself quite smug and with much more reason. For captures and disarmaments, he had a usual tactic: one _perfect_ for putting this kind of puppy in its place.

"Not yet, you little gibbon. Just one question." If he was going to ask, he had to ask first, for soon this kid would be in no condition to respond to anything. "Are you a girl or a boy?"

Kikuchihara spluttered the second syllable of his snarky response, because he hadn't expected the question. And was still trying to decipher it when he heard the Neighbor's body splutch further up his own.

"Actually, forget it." His clean, wolfish smile gained more satisfaction. "It doesn't really matter."

This guy'd concluded Kikuchihara's ears had been what thwarted him. Kikuchi could assume so because that was the part invaded. The roving liquid slicked, trickled into his left ear canal, an ocean's low roar, and it made itself at home there, and short circuits began to crackle in his brain.

You see, the best and least-usable erogenous zone to be found in the body coats the inside of the ear: a place almost unreachable and quite hazardous to play with on normal flesh, lest you deafen your partner. All these facts combine to make it something like a virgin tube of G-spot in your skull. The inexorable slide of a viscous liquid slipping deeper and deeper down that tube would drive an erotic shudder through anybody.

Enedora well knew this.

Kikuchihara too was long aware. He looked after his ears the way you look after a gun, and knew the joys of certain medical instruments. But somehow, when he woke up this morning, he hadn't thought to expect a Black Trigger-using Neighbor to turn up and make use of his ear canal for the world's most effective disabling.

After that first jolt, the Miden kid stiffened, tugging at the anchor of mud around its extremities. As with most people deflowered by Borboros (under which this did count), just that little invasion chased the world from its skull. It was trying to keep its head above metaphorical water, perhaps on principle of not bowing to the enemy so easily, but against the roaring tide that soon ceased to be a compelling motivation. Once Enedora settled against and barely around eardrum, the kid surrendered with a turbulent moan.

He'd used this technique on the field for kidnappings, to get the least resistance out of any critical flesh prisoner who would know how quickly the pleasure could come to an end. Later it became a way of playing with his "food"; plunging his prey in the confusion of unexpected bliss, receiving token unfelt resistance and oh-so-clear disappointment that the invasion had suddenly ceased. Here Enedora was still pissed at the attitude that'd long left the kid's eyes, and this required more of a humbling than briefly making it forget this was a battlefield.

So the bit of liquid Neighbor that had filled Kikuchi's ear, with not even the lightest threat of pressure on the drum, began to twist like a finger.

No amount of thrashing would get him loose before the Neighbor was through with this exquisite torture. The playing of his instrument was leisurely, it showed practice and talent, it was too much. Before he could get ahold of himself, Kikuchihara's Trion body locked up, wound beyond tension; only his legs, now encased in Borboros' grasp, twitched.

Then he loosened in a snap, like a piece of laundry flicked to flatten out the wrinkles, like the inner ball of a cowbell settling after a violent shake.

Enedora _was_ caught a bit off-guard, now that the prisoner could briefly do nothing about it. Really, one squirt already? Only just from that?

Limp, empty-headed, Kikuchihara faintly knew he should be embarrassed by that reaction. But it was hard to feel much of anything past this fog.

Until the Neighbor's Black Trigger began to cascade up his arm, and swamp him up to his hidden navel. Like a python around his prey, Enedora took advantage of the least little yield to get a better grasp.

"So much for the proud little Miden monkey cub! You're a quick shot, are you? And this when you've barely been touched."

The Neighbor was actually touching him now, still-solid hand gliding along Kikuchi's jawbone, but he didn't, couldn't even turn away. Even when the Neighbor tilted up his chin, and his half-lidded eyes shut in betraying submission, he had nothing to say. He felt a thumb trace the end of his lower lip with a discordant, mild tenderness.

"Well," Enedora told him, unbelievably proud of his skill: "I'll just be slower next time!"

* * *

Meanwhile in the Kazama Squad war room, the primary fear held that Kikuchi was being carted off for unspeakable acts. The captain had been cursed with the keenness of vision to see that these were already happening, no matter how subtle the Neighbor believed he was being. Even after chiding his teammates for wanting to throw themselves at their foe in pointlessly-truncated revenge, _if_ he'd still been there, Kazama might have had to restrain himself from the same reflex. The same desire to accomplish _something_.

 _Why doesn't he Bail Out?!_ That was the quickest, if not only way to put an end to it now. It's not as if the Neighbor had made ground hash out of Kikuchihara's brain; that organ remained safely inside his real body. He hadn't even been fully engulfed. This Black Trigger couldn't actually sever his control over his Trion body without destroying it, could it?!

Hanging over their heads was also the threat Kikuchihara will be the next victim of theft, carried off permanently in the Neighbor's cape. The Captain and Operator and squadmate kept shouting at Kikuchihara to get away over comm, which clearly was not working, but their alternative was to do nothing.

"Kikuchihara," Kazama said clearly, pushing all the desperation he felt into his voice, that it might hit the mark. "There's no need to be proud." He wanted to repeat his subordinate's name like a nagging parent.

Utagawa: "Is there _anything_ I can do?"

They all wished. But Kikuchihara was well and truly a prisoner of this hazardous Black Trigger. Moving carelessly could not help him. If their voices couldn't reach him, they could only wait.

* * *

No hint of token resistance. The prisoner was limp until disturbed. Enedora had only to roll himself over every surface, cover it, every small sliver of an inch, to get a full response. Seeping through entryways to spread over skin -- so it _was_ a boy after all -- although he couldn't bypass the combat body's undergarments. No matter.

Three times Kikuchihara's fake flesh trembled and the invading force paused, held fast his struggling, curved elsewhere, left him suspended.

He was almost completely sunk into Enedora's cape now: just his face half-covered, his pink tongue dangling, as if by itself; a little whine, his dark eyes glazed and aware only of the person that possessed him.

Spurred by this needy response, Enedora actually glanced around with a new motive as he wandered the battleground seeking trouble. He thought about it, but: Not during the Away mission. Actually screwing the prisoner for real would be a waste of time and Trion. This was supposed to be the means of taking a pawn off the board in the most humbling way possible.

Kikuchihara didn't notice these calculations, nor his increasing encasement. Rather, he didn't process it as being engulfed by the Neighbor but as sinking deeper into the well of warm water marinating his skin. The cries of his teammates, far at the shimmering top though they actually came from inside his skull, grew muffled beneath the constant onslaught on his nerves.

The prisoner began to struggle again in Enedora's grip, though not with any real intent of escape. Too involuntary, too aimless for that. He'd be a distraction in a fight, but no one else was coming out to play... thanks to Ranbanein and the Rabits taking all their attention. A shame; Enedora would have liked to show the monkeys a glimpse of their fellow soldier. Of how little he was trying to escape the enemy's grasp.

The silence from the Away Team's ship also nagged at him; mostly because he so expected it broken, any minute, with recon Soldiers filling the air and the watchers no doubt aware of what he had. Neither of the two still in the ship had opened their trap to scold him, but he could easily hear their disapproval without a word relayed. _Enedora, this is needless brutality, and of a youth at that._

Please! The band of them roved around wrecking much younger kids' lives _constantly_. What did the stodgy pair think a siege was? If he took this _one_ egotistical brat down a few dozen pegs, what did it matter in the grand scheme of things?

And besides, if he brought in a prisoner with such good ears, then how much could anyone complain?

So practiced in the use of Borboros as to wring the brat's body with just the back of his mind, Enedora finally began making his way to the monkeys' gray fortress, a towering encampment that looked puny to a native of Aftokrator. The nest may also look impenetrable, but it wasn't to his Black Trigger.

* * *

Among Border agents thus inclined, sex using Trion bodies was said to "not count". Aside from your real body staying virginal, you couldn't even have a genuine orgasm. In a Trion shell, what looked real enough would only permeate down as much as to be ever more teasing, mere foreplay. It was rumored you would go mad from denial if you kept at it too long in a training room, while outside one you would just eventually run out of Trion, bail out, and masturbate desperately in your team's Strategy Room.

Kikuchihara seemed to have forgotten this physical fact. There was enough feeling, too much of it, in too many sensitive places (most of them), too much pressure and thievery, that in all those little places trickles seemed to seep right down to the edges of his real nerves and there explode like the superheated water it all was.

He didn't writhe in deeply-unsatisfied and cruelly-withheld need; nor did he Bail Out. If this had been the first climax he'd ever reached, he might have forgotten everything else, right down to his name, forever. There were no distant cries muffled under squelching, there was no awareness of an invasion, or of being a prisoner of war, or of the Neighbor that had swathed him in his own self, nothing, nothing, there was only the tender quiver of a body shot through to heaven.

Enedora, who was also well-aware of the sexual limitations of Trion combat forms, felt his prisoner go slack. He stopped, puzzled -- recognizing the type, the flavor of trembling inside his cloak. The helpless thrashing and electrified wriggle had become a languid curl, that wormlike sort produced by those who can't do anything more demanding than squirm against the places that feel best. The boy's vocal cords rattled against Enedora's liquid flesh, trying to be a scream but too low and deep and long for that. They vibrated for forty-five long seconds before dying down to mid-spaced hiccups of ensnared gasps.

His impulse was to insult the kid for welcoming it _that_ much, but really he was marvelling. Someone who is used to effortlessly converting _other_ people to gelatin would, if he'd actually accomplished something new with a body.

At last he opened his cape and allowed the Miden bitch to slip onto the ground, perfectly intact and no faux thread even shoved aside. No one would be able to guess what'd been done to him, unless they knew Enedora, or the kid was inclined to tell.

To some extent the little soldier picked himself off the rubble, but he seemed to be in no condition to flee even if he wanted to. His chest moved clutchingly until Enedora loosened the left-behind mud into phlegm's consistency and watched amused for the black puddle to be choked up. A strand or two clung and dangled from the boy's mouth briefly before it joined the rest.

Though given the freedom to try at fight or flight, the prisoner hardly moved -- just knelt there half-curled and trembling, as if he didn't have full control of his body. His hairband had come loose in Enedora's grip; from this angle the brown locks masked his face. Passing out was out of the question in a combat body, and yet. As a test when the Miden kid didn't recover, Enedora tilted his head up by that hair.

He didn't really expect this response to his face coming so close, even though he should have. Once again he was familar with this, this I-love-you take-me-home make-me-your-sex-pet kiss, all need and willing submission.

_Yep. He's lost his mind._

As another test, he slipped from this needy grip as water, and the surrendering soldier nuzzled against his leg instead, clutching it desperately. Just several minutes earlier, he had been so aloof. Now, like a puppy: you pet it once, maybe five times, and it wants to stick around, begging for just one more stroke.

"hn, nnnnnnnn _hhh_ More!!"

"Later." He wound tendrils around the soldier's wrists, and dragged the boy toward a structure that looked eaten by giant moths. Plugged the ears again just in case, getting another joyful scream. " _You_ are going home with me."

To his comrade in space, he made his request into a boast.

"Hey, Mira. I've got this prisoner tenderized enough, so send one of the Rabits. He'll be a useful soldier; he's got good ears!"

Bits of Borboros couldn't be too far away and still be counted on to secure limbs, so this big building would be the next best cage. He shoved his catch deep into the damage and slashed the load-bearing portions that kept it standing, burying the kid under slabs of rubble. No one would be likely to come to his rescue in time if they couldn't see him.

Pushed into a state he didn't know existed, Kikuchihara rested limp in the darkness. It was a bit like being buried under a roof and peacefully awaiting death. He heard familiar voices making near-breathless demands, but the words had been repeated so often they didn't even sound like Japanese. Just the barking of tiny dogs.

* * *

Above him the house debris was being further damaged, the sound getting closer, harsher, louder. Light reached him, faint, as if a Valkyrie had arrived to bear him off to the next world. He still felt so dizzy, so spent, he almost could believe he'd somehow managed to die.

Then he was being dragged out of the clutter pit, arms clasped by another set. His head lolled back against a human chest. A person was definitely carrying him, but for the moment he couldn't see any shape where they should be.

_It must be Utagawa._

With nothing left to distract him, the world- the Invasion came surging back. With nothing left to distract him from the hoarsening, constant voices, they came ringing, from memory, too loud and incessant to be ignored.

All at once, he realized, those in the strategy room had heard his reactions, heard him beg. Both of them, all of it.

Kazama heard it.

"Kikuchihara, we have to run!"

There was the armadillo-like New-Type Neighbor leaving the top of Kikuchi's burial mound. He didn't argue with Utagawa that they might be able to manage it. They fled for the entrance to HQ.

Once they'd made it inside the relative safety, Utagawa removed the Chameleon with its familiar mechanical whine. His expression was pinched, like he'd witnessed something revolting, but his voice only carried concern for his comrade.

"Kikuchihara. Are you...?"

"Fine? Yes."

"You don't have to pretend--"

" _There's nothing wrong with me._ " _I'll tell them it was something his Black Trigger did._ Which was technically very true.

Utagawa didn't argue further. With nothing left to do now except wait for their next deployment -- as had been the plan at the start -- the squadmates began the long walk back to their strategy room. It seemed they had only just started through the quiet halls when:

" **INTRUDER ALERT. INTRUDER ALERT.** "

Both flashed instantly on the Ilgar bombings. "Did they break into the base after all?!"

And their Operator answered:

"The Black Trigger user we fought entered through an exhaust vent!"

Of course; if this Neighbor could slip into a body, he could slip into the base. The knowledge of this small-scale invasion made the more personal invasion come right back to mind.

Utagawa noticed his tremble, and misunderstood it.

"Kikuchi, I'm sure no one will blame you if you want to sit this out."

"Are you kidding?! We're taking him down, and I want to be there!"

Letting this guy get away with what he did, without striking back! Kikuchi could live with what'd happened -- he found it disturbingly easy, despite all that humiliation -- but not if the second fight ended without him, with his endurance of it all made pointless by his absence.

More than when the enemy had insulted his Captain, he was driven to the new battlefront by need for vengeance. _We'll win this time. I'll get him back. He doesn't have Bail Out. He'll pay._

Border will take _him_ prisoner, as well as that Black Trigger....


End file.
